Shinobi
by Candelabra
Summary: A shinobi must have no emotion and carry out whatever mission is assigned without faltering. Itachi was trained to be the very best shinobi from childhood. Itachi character study, contains major spoilers rated for death


**A/N:** Hello all, it's been awhile. This is my newest fanfic. I've had some debate with myself on whether it should be chaptered or just a oneshot, but I think I shall leave it as a oneshot.

This is a sort of collection of oneshots of various length focussing on Itachi and his past, as recent (well, not-so-recent anymore) manga chapters have revealed to us. The snippets are placed in chronological order.

Please do review after you read, I love feedback. Constructive criticism is very helpful.

**Warnings: **Major manga spoilers and a small amount of gore. Also, length (??). There aren't really any pairings.

* * *

Emotion. It is a civilian thing, luckily enough, and not shinobi. Otherwise Itachi would have been forced to learn and perfect it as he did all shinobi skills. It was too strange and illogical a thing for him to want to study it for any great amount of time.

Fortunately, Itachi was encouraged not to feel when he was a child. "Shinobi are tools," he was taught. "Shinobi have no thought or emotion — they simply follow orders." It was one of many things he learned and committed to memory as a child, and later it would come to him that it is in fact the most important of all the rules.

When he was much younger, the fact that ninja were not supposed to feel but civilians were seemed baffling. For him, the task of dredging up anything other than automatic physical reactions in response to a situation seemed time-consuming and a rather daunting challenge. He did not understand why the weak non-shinobi were supposed to go through their entire lives burdened with mastering this tiresome ability.

It was not until later that he realised it was different for other people; that most other shinobi were not emotionless at all. The rule was a lie, like so many other things in his village and clan. They did not want him to forget his emotions at all — they simply wanted him to bury them.

It was the first time he truly understood the meaning of 'looking underneath the underneath'.

* * *

It's not often that Itachi allows himself to ponder on the past, but on long clear nights when the moon is full and shining and there are no missions to accomplish, he finds himself drifting off into reminiscence.

In general, he remembers events in the form of mission reports, filed away in his mind with all the required statistics and observations, no unnecessary personal thoughts or opinions. And yet, he must not have always been like this, for his memories of his childhood are stored in a very different format.

For some reason, it is not easy to pull up the thoughts he once had, the faint feelings he held towards his clan and the village.

He remembers that he was five when the Kyuubi attacked, and that it was earlier in that year that his brother was born. He remembers waiting with the other Uchiha, hiding beneath the Nagano shrine as the battle raged overhead. He remembers that his brother was crying, and that at one point he was holding him.

He thinks this must have been the first time he ever held his brother, because his father had never considered child-rearing to be part of a shinobi's duties. His clearest memory of that time is of the way Sasuke's eyes looked, grey and wet and, somewhere beyond the shine of tears, curious.

And then his mind takes him far beyond that night and through the years to another time, when his brother's eyes burned sharingan red.

It is at this point that he usually returns to reality, and then his pondering is finished for the night.

* * *

Itachi was seven years old when he graduated the Ninja Academy. His mother made all his favourite meals and his father smiled and told him how proud he was.

He accepted their praise gracefully, and those of his clan-mates.

But what he remembers is the way Sasuke looked at him, as though he were a god.

It was a curious thing. Others had looked at him in such a way, thinking him a prodigy and a genius. Many people were in awe of him, or even resented his talent. None of their reactions bothered him.

For some reason, however, the first time Sasuke looked at him like that it hurt in a way that scrapes and bruises did not.

* * *

Itachi was among the children of the first generation taught and trained in Danzous ANBU Root.

He was, of course, different from the others. For one thing, he already knew a great deal about the world and about jutsu. He was no naive and freshly picked child, to be so easily molded to Danzous tastes. For another, he was not an orphan. Danzou had not really wanted an Uchiha, he learned later, but had accepted him because of the talent hed shown.

It was Fugaku that wanted him to join. "You must learn to fight in the enemy's way," he told him, and Itachi agreed and understood.

His first year out of the Academy, Itachi hardly set foot in his house. All his time and effort was spent training, either with his all-Uchiha genin team or with the ANBU root under Danzous tutelage.

He remembers, perhaps more clearly than anything else, Danzou's mantra and favourite rule: _A shinobi must have no emotion and carry out whatever mission is assigned without faltering._

* * *

He carries on his person only one physical reminder of the past.

He was ten years old when he became engaged. It was a political move more than anything.

His betrothed was Yuri, the girl on his genin team. She was several years older than him, almost fifteen, but if she was uncomfortable with the arrangement she never showed it. She was a much better shinobi than their teammate Shisui, in that way.

She was reasonably pretty and came from a strong branch of the clan. She had awakened her sharingan when she was ten, which was what really drew Fugaku to her. It was uncommon for a female Uchiha to choose to be shinobi, and stranger still for one to become a sharingan user, even if she still only had two tomoe.

The ceremony was carried out in a simple and practical manner, and afterward they were allowed time alone.

There was little to say and neither felt like making small talk. But quite suddenly, she handed him something. It was a necklace, something she told him that she had made herself. He accepted it with perfect grace, but did not put it on.

In fact, he remembers that he never once wore it in the following years.

* * *

It was sometime after the engagement that Itachi first learned of Madara. It was through Shisui, of course, as all things seemed to be learned through Shisui at that time. He had long since stopped thinking of Danzou as his commander and teacher.

He remembers how excited his teammate had been, and his own muted curiosity as the boy led him down the steps of the Nagano shrine where they had all hid in silence so many years before.

"Look," said Shisui, taking his hand, and he shone a lamp upon the murals carved on the walls. "Do you know who this is?"

He was talking about the ancestor who was carved on the walls, battling fearsome demons with a strange-looking fan. Itachi did not know — he had always thought this man to be a figure of myth, as no one had ever said anything about him.

But Shisui said otherwise. Throughout the next few months he told Itachi all about the man called Madara and what he had once planned for the Uchiha.

His eyes are always bright with an eager, hopeful gleam in Itachi's memories. His face was always easy to read, and this was no exception. Itachi knew what he wanted, what he dreamed of — the Uchiha restored to their former glory, no longer the oppressed and shunned clan of the village.

Itachi cared little of how Konohagakure saw their clan. But he wondered if anyone else could see Shisui's desires.

* * *

Sometime after this all his memories become almost clinically detached. He remembers the missions, and the training, and the look on his brothers face when he told him he didnt have time.

He remembers the secret meetings that he was eventually asked to attend, long after he knew of both their existence and their purpose. He remembers the stiff way his mother moved in the background, serving tea and absently cleaning, listening intently. He remembers the way his fathers brow furrowed in an angry, humiliated expression as he relayed the further restrictions the Elders of Konoha wanted enforced upon the clan, and the significant looks the Uchiha clan elders exchanged.

He remembers Shisui's joy when he learned they were finally going to _do_ something, and the curiously empty way he felt in reply. He remembers the dark shade in the caverns beneath the shrine, the memory of a man who so desperately wanted power that he was willing to sacrifice anything for it.

And he remembers the day he finally went to the Hokage, explaining everything that had happened and volunteering to become Konohagakure's double agent.

It wasn't betrayal, he thinks. Not really. Not when they were the traitors.

And what did it matter that he didn't think they deserved death? What did it matter that not everyone understood or knew about or even agreed with the plan?

Orders were orders, and shinobi are, after all, only tools for killing. They have no emotion or thoughts of their own.

* * *

He told them what the Mangekyou Sharingan was, because they asked. Sandaime Hokage-sama seemed deeply troubled by the conditions in which it could be gained, but Danzou was quite openly curious about the whole idea.

He took Itachi aside and told him that, although he was certainly the strongest Uchiha there ever was, he still was not strong enough to take on the clan by himself. He was still not strong enough to destroy them all with the power he had now.

He did not directly order it, but Itachi knew what was being asked of him. He understood what Danzou wanted him to do.

The thought made him feel something — made him sick at heart and quite empty inside. Made him think and wonder and wish, for the first time in his life, that he was not such a good shinobi.

He remembers quite clearly the day he decided to do it. After all, Danzou was right — he did not have the strength to take on the entire Uchiha clan just yet. Not by himself.

Shisui came to him by the Nagano river. Itachi remembers the faintly puzzled look on his face, the confused way his eyes searched Itachi's.

He remembers the fight, brief and surprisingly easy, remembers the way the other boy struggled in the water and how those struggles lessened and lessened until he was left holding a corpse face down in the river.

His eyes bled red. He could see his sharingan change in the broken reflection the ripples made, and he shut his eyes against it. He could feel the blood gathering and leaking from beneath his eyelids, trickling down his face and dripping from his chin into the clear water beneath, staining it.

Everything was as it had been, when he returned home that night. Fugaku was curt and angry with him for missing the meeting, Mikoto was as quietly mothering as always, and Sasuke babbled on through dinner, unaware of the tension in the house.

Itachi remembers the moment he realized all this would soon change, and the strangely tight feeling in his gut.

It was the day after he killed Shisui that they let him know they suspected him. They came to him with a suicide note that neither Itachi nor Shisui had written, and it was in that instant that he understood. It was not just Danzou who wanted him to gain the Mangekyou.

He _felt_, that day, felt more than he ever had before. He was angry, full of rage at the knowledge that he and Shisui had been played like puppets by the shadow man beneath the Nagano shrine. They had all been fools for his entertainment.

And suddenly, he wanted to tell them. He wanted to let them know the truth — that they had been betrayed, that they were all weak and helpless, that they were all going to die. He wanted to show them what he thought, in that instant, of all their precious dreams and ideals.

But Sasuke's voice cut through everything, and he remembered what he was. He remembered his mission. He begged their forgiveness and bowed before them in the most humbling way he knew.

He no longer remembers if it was this time or later when he decided upon a new mission, one of his own making. It was the first time he'd ever thought to do something based on his own desires, and so he thinks it should probably be more easy to remember than it is. But the concept of something that should or shouldn't be, are and have always been as baffling as emotion, to him.

"I cannot do it alone," he said aloud to the mural-covered walls. "Surely you must know this? Even with Mangekyou I am no match for them all. You'll have to help me."

There was no answer, but he knew the other had heard.

When Madara came before him some days later, garbed in Shisui's dead and rotting body, he did not so much as flinch.

"Well?" said the exiled and deposed ancestor, forcing the decaying lips into a smile.

"Thank you," was the only thing Itachi could think of to say.

* * *

That night stands out as both the clearest in all of his memories and the most muddled.

He took out the strongest first, by surprise and trickery. Madara was a great help, his corpse-body serving to unnerve them and his jutsu unmatchable. He grinned at Itachi with that hideously rotted mouth and told him that he would take care of any left-overs.

By the time they all realized what was happening, it was too late. He went through the streets and sliced them all down, young and old. He did not bother to take note of their faces as anything more than targets to be destroyed.

He thinks he might remember seeing Yuri's body lying face-down in the pavement, and that he fingered the necklace that he still kept in the pocket of his ANBU uniform. He only ever wore it after that day.

He knows that he remembers his parents — Fugaku more angry than surprised or terrified. He remembers quite clearly the sound of his knife as it ripped through fabric and skin and tissue to strike the man's heart.

His mother did not run or try to defend herself. She stared mutely at the body of her husband before her, and turned only slightly so that she could catch Itachi's eye in the moment he swung the blade. He had never been able to tell what she thought of anything.

And it was in the moments after her death that he heard it — the sound of footsteps and frantic panicked gasping.

He realized it was Sasuke in the same moment he called the boy's name and ordered him not to enter.

But of course he didn't listen. And for some reason, it hurt more than anything else to see the way Sasuke's eyes widened in realization of what must have happened. Itachi had not thrown the shuriken with the intent to kill, because Sasuke was instrumental to his plan.

Something was taking place inside his head, though, as Sasuke's eyes filled with tears and he ran screaming from the house, some private rebellion.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He had told the boy before, had tried to explain a little of what was going to happen. He had thought about it, considered it, wondered if it could possibly work in the way he wanted it to. He had hoped that Sasuke would be strong enough.

But somehow, he didn't want this for his little brother.

Itachi chased Sasuke through the streets. He had already requested to have his immediate family left to him, but one could never trust Madara.

He used the Mangekyou, just as he had planned, and something crumbled inside him as his brother screamed and screamed in the inverted red world.

It was no longer a question of whether or not Sasuke was strong enough. Itachi was no longer certain if he himself could go through with it. His brother was too young and fragile — better to let him die here. Better to do it all himself.

There was something falling from his eyes. Itachi remembers it in such minute detail, later, the warm liquid that gathered at his eyelashes and trickled down his cheek in salty trails. The way it blurred the world, until he could only just barely see his little brother just a few metres in front of him.

He never understands what it was supposed to mean. He remembers the strange feeling, almost of pride, when Sasuke threw the kunai to slice away his headband. He remembers the shock and return of conviction when his little brother's eyes turned sharingan red.

He'd hardly payed attention to the boy, these past few months. He'd forgotten his dedication and willpower.

Madara found him kneeling over Sasuke's warm, unconscious body, tears still falling from his face.

"Come along," he said in Shisui's voice, "It's time to go."

* * *

He remembers only a little of the meeting with the Hokage and Danzou. He told them that Sasuke was still alive, and that if they harmed him everyone would suffer for it. He offered no explanations.

And then he was gone, exiled at 13 years of age by his own choice. He would send information back to Konohagakure, it was agreed, but to all appearances he would be a missing nin.

It does not matter what the world thinks of him. He is a loyal shinobi of Konohagakure.

Itachi is the best shinobi in existence.

* * *

Itachi is 20 years old when he dies.

It doesn't go exactly as he planned.

He's never quite understood emotions, or how people act based on them.

He always knew that Sasuke was a bad shinobi in that he could never put aside his own thoughts and feelings in the interest of the mission. It was what he'd counted on, when he first told the boy to live and hate him.

He had never counted on the idea of love.

When Itachi learned that his brother had left Konohagakure for Otogakure, and almost killed his jinchuuriki teammate in the process, he was left at a loss. He had expected Sasuke to kill his best friend and come to fight him. He had intended to explain, to have them fight against Madara together.

It had never occurred to him that Sasuke could gain enough hatred to go against Itachi's wishes just to spite him. It had never occurred to him that Sasuke would refuse to kill his best friend, for whatever reason. He had never once entertained the possibility that Sasuke would choose a different path to power.

His plans had to change. All of a sudden, keeping Naruto alive became a high priority. If the boy continued to chase after his brother it was still possible that even if Itachi himself died there would still be some way to destroy Madara.

His last battle is exactly what he could expect, after giving away half of his power. Sasuke is half crazy with desperation and sadness, but he is still too weak. He could never be molded into a properly emotionless shinobi, even by Orochimaru.

But Itachi manages to smile at his little brother one last time before he dies, because even if his plans have been changed he is certain they will still be carried out. He is not completely gone yet, not while his power still lives in Naruto.

Madara will still die.

It is a strange thing, but he had forgotten that he used to poke his brother in the forehead all the time. He had forgotten how much it annoyed the boy.

As he slips into darkness, he thinks and remembers and his last thought is to wonder why such a thing should happen.


End file.
